Uncensored journalling of life with severe mental illness through words, images, rambling, and doodling

Why did it take every ounce of my being to drag myself out of bed today?

Why did I want to run away and never be seen again (never breathe again) before wasting another second of anyone’s time today?

Why was I a non-functioning, sobbing, snivelling mess this morning, all morning, until there was external intervention?

What has it gotten so bad today that today I finally (after much effort and encouragement) gave in and sobbed down the phone to a stranger from the local crisis team?

Why did it take aforementioned crisis team member coaching me down the phone to simply make it through the next few hours until someone from the team was planned to visit me?

Why, as an adult, did I need coaching to fill under 3 hours with having a shower (first in too long, in all honesty), eating a pre-prepared sandwich, and turning the TV on?

Why did I spend the whole of yesterday evening caught in total, paralysing anxiety and panic that I’d ruined my chances of support and help from the Crisis Team, sure that I’d personally upset every individual member? (without having even had contact with them!)

Why am I so certain that I’d letting everyone down?

Why am I so certain that I’m undeserving of help and care?

Why do others think I’m worth helping?

Why is the very talented, busy and in-demand Crisis Team manager being so kind, and investing so much time in me?

Why can I trust people completely, but not believe when they say that in their (very respected) opinion that I’m worth working with?

Why do I feel such aching, overwhelming (sadness? grief? fear? emptiness?) emotional pain, even when in a tranquil, beautiful environment, discussing a shared interest, with someone that I trust and like?

Why is there never even a momentary relief from this pain?

Why am I allowing others to become emotionally invested in me when I feel sure that there won’t be a happy ending? (or even a long story, for that matter)

Why can I never grasp, or hold, on to hope for my life?

Why do so many others feel that I’m worth holding on to hope for?

Why can’t I let go of past experiences/trauma/pain?

Why am I not getting better?

Why does everyone else not feel the same anger and disappointment towards me as I feel towards myself?

Why can I not just work myself out of this illness?

Why do I find it so painful to accept help and support?

Why does everyone else not agree that my only impact on this earth and everyone in it is negative – and thus that my death would be the least of two evils?

Why can’t I carry on on my own any more?

Why was I so stupid as to burn myself to very (irreversibly?) low with my stubbornness, independence, determinedness to achieve, and desire to avoid being a burden/worry/concern over the past 10 years of illness?

Why can’t I just cope?

Why don’t I know what would help?

Why am I letting everyone down?

Why am I failing?

Why can’t I have a future that isn’t filled with pain?

Why does it feel like death is the only way out?

Why is my hard work not paying off?

Why am I not only hopeless, but helpless, too?

Why is it still worth fighting?

Why can’t I believe that this isn’t my fault?

Why can’t I believe that I’ve got the strength to make it through this?

Why am I so pathetic?

Why don’t I have more courage?

Why am I blessed with so many amazing people (professionals, family, friends, ‘online friends’, etc.) in my life?

Do you know what the most ironic thing is? If I was talking to anyone else (not just a friend, or a peer in a therapy group, or a member of my peer support group – I mean ANYONE, with no caveats), I’d be able to answer with empathy, logic, reason, kindness, and advice – the crux of which would be:
“You are very unwell. You’ve tried to cope without help for too long, and it’s brought you to the edge, but you’re as deserving as anyone else and there’s no such thing as no hope. No one is ever to blame for illness or its symptoms – but this beast of an illness is so evil that it convinces you otherwise, and of many other intolerable things to boot. Everyone’s illness and ‘recovery’ (although, the ‘r’ word is said with many caveats and queries) is different, with no time frames and little way to predict its true nature or extent. For now, just please hold on, please keep fighting, and please refer back to this past doodle of mine…”

If only I could get past the barricades of illness, irrationality, and self-hatred to listen to my own advice, eh? If only I could feel as deserving as everyone else. If only there was a solid answer to that big ‘what’…?

But poorly brain won’t play ball.
In fact, the answers it comes up with for myself couldn’t be further from the above at all. (Accidental Dr Seuss moment? 😉 )

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Published by thedoodlechroniclesblog

Documenting life with personality disorders, depression & anxiety. Aims to reduce the stigma, misunderstanding & loneliness of mental illness by providing honest and relatable accounts of everyday life and struggles - as well as sharing the positives and achievements that are often downplayed by the general public. Topics discussed can be triggering, so please look after yourselves.
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One thought on “A Day Full of ‘Why’s”

I know from experience that depression and anxiety are really, fucking horrendous. All I can say is take things hour by hour, minute by minute if you need, make sure you drink even if eating feels hard, let people care because you are worth it, depression is a bully and it will make up shit so don’t be afraid to check things out with other even if it feels daft. You’re doing the best you can and it does pass eventually. I have also found rating my mood out of ten at intervals in the day helpful. It helps me to see that things change even when they feel the same. Sometimes it’s just a tiny amount but it can help to see the progress and any patterns (if some times of the day are worse than others).